The Unmentionable Curse
by Ivory Tower
Summary: The new DADA professor teaches the children a very naughty curse! Most inappropriate, indeed! Rated R for language!


Title: The Unmentionable Curse  
  
Author: Ivory Tower  
  
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all Harry Potter characters.  
"Talk about short notice," said Hermione as she and the other students slid into their seats. "I heard that Dumbledore hadn't even confirmed the professor until this morning!"  
  
Harry smirked. "That explains why Snape is walking around like he has a mace up his butt. He really must have thought he was going to get the job."  
  
"Lucky for us, he didn't. He'd probably use one of us to perform an unforgivable curse on," said Ron, opening a chocolate frog. "Damn it! Another Dumbledore."  
  
"Ron! Watch your mouth," scolded Hermione.  
  
Just then, the door opened and in walked a man of average height and roundish build. He had curly sandy-brown hair, brown eyes, and slate grey robes.  
  
"Hello all," he greeted merrily. "I am Professor Orka Buttfucker: your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor!"  
  
The class stared. Harry shook his head as though to clear it. Hermione raised her hand.  
  
"Um, Professor...what did you say your name is?" she asked meekly.  
  
The Professor's smile broadened. "Professor Buttfucker. Orka Buttfucker, last of the Kentucky Buttfuckers."  
  
Neville blanched, clearly unused to hearing adults use profanity.  
  
"So...do you have a preference as to what we should call you?" inquired Harry uneasily.  
  
"Well, no, but some names I have been referred to as in the past are: Old Ass Shoveler, Or Professor Asspoker, or Mr. Bumraper."  
  
"I see," said Harry, not knowing what else to say.  
  
Professor Buttfucker smiled. "Well then, let us begin! Take out your wands and turn to page 103 in your textbooks!"  
  
Ron, Seamus, Lavender, and many other students lost their composure and began to howl with laughter. Harry was rather dazed by what he saw on page 103. Neville looked faint. Hermione stared at the picture on page 103 with bulging eyes, her hand covering her mouth. Dean Thomas couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. There, in dazzling technicolor, was the picture of an enormous ass that filled the entire page, nothing more. Parvati Patil was hyperventilating with laughter. Several students checked the covers of their textbooks to make sure they had the correct one.  
  
Professor Buttfucker smiled and waved his hands for silence.  
  
"Now, I know what you're thinking."  
  
"Wanna bet,"whispered Seamus with a lecherous grin.  
  
"You're thinking: what does a gigantic ass have to do with the Dark Arts? Well, let me assure you, in the wrong hands, asses can be deadly weapons. Lethal, in fact!"  
  
Hermione was much too overwhelmed to mention that deadly and lethal mean the same thing.  
  
"By the same token, the ass can be your best bet in a tight spot! Nothing will distract your enemy faster than an itchy ass. Today, I shall teach you a spell that will successfully render your opponent incapable of anything but scraping his bum on the nearest textured surface. I will need a volunteer. You there!"  
  
Ron's eyes widened. "Me?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Come up to the front, please."  
  
Giving Hermione and Harry an uneasy look, Ron trudged up and joined Professor Buttfucker.  
  
"What is your name, good sir?"  
  
"Ron-Ron Weasley."  
  
"Good day to you Ron-Mr. Weasley. Now then," Professor Buttfucker faced the class once more, "when I say itchy ass, I don't mean..." Here, the Professor slapped his buttocks. "I am speaking of a special kind of itch that only occurs when you are in the most public of places. An itch that is so far up your bum you could scratch it by ramming a toothbrush down your throat. Do you know the itch of which I speak?"  
  
The students nodded and murmured their assent.  
  
"That blanket-biting itch that makes you long to forgo all aspects of proper etiquette and go after your ass with curved nails and a spanking for good measure! How dare our own asses attempt to make fools of us in public. How dare our own asses seek to taunt and humiliate us!"  
  
"Amen!" shouted someone. It might have been Parvati Patil.  
  
Professor Buttfucker grinned. "That gruelling ass-biting itch might one day save your life. Observe." He pointed his wand at Ron and intoned, "Assitchikus!"  
  
Ron tensed, then quivered. "AAAAAArrrrrrrrrgggggggh!" Ron yelled, clamping his hands down on his buttocks. He then began to hop around like mad. "Ooooooooooh Merliiin it itches! Oi! Oi! Wahooo-oh goooooods!" Ron began to utter very odd sounds as he leapt about the room, rubbing his buttocks against anything with a pointed edge.  
  
"As you can see, Mr. Weasley has been rendered completely incopetent of performing any act save that of soothing his inflammed arse," explained Professor Buttfucker calmly.  
  
By now, Ron was on his hands and knees, kicking his legs up behind him in an attempt to scratch his butt crack with is shoes.  
  
"Yow! Ow! Eahuaulla! Eeeeee! Eeeee! Ooooooooh that itches! Mother of Thor, save me! Agaggagagagarrrr!"  
  
"Assitchikus Nomorus," said Professor Buttfucker, waving his wand at Ron's ass.  
  
Ron's insanity subsided. He sank to the ground with a large sigh of relief.  
  
"Whoa!" whispered Neville, completely blown away.  
  
The good Professor Buttfucker then divided the class into pairs for some hands on experience.  
  
Harry nearly shot through the roof when the spell was performed on him. He could not believe the magnitude of it! The nerve endings in his ass were screaming with outrage! This was worse than the Cruciatus Curse! His butt begged for mercy and there was none. No relief in sight! All rational thinking left Harry as his mind turned to thoughts of hairbrushes with wire bristles. Lavender screamed as Dean absconded with *her* hairbrush. Hermione and Seamus pummled each other for someone's twelve-inch wand.  
  
The classroom door swung open, and in marched Professor Severus Snape, a deep frown etched on his pale face.  
  
"*What* is the meaning of this bedlam?"  
  
"Assitchikus!"  
  
Snape's black eyes grew enormous, and he bit his lower lip. Quite stiffly, he hurried out of the room. A few minutes later, everyone heard Snape's unmistakable angry voice yell, "Get out of my way! Itchy ass! You there-Filch! Come back with that broom!"  
  
Professor Buttfucker stood in the center of the room and giggled insanely as the students writhed in agony, and fought for Lavender Brown's hairbrush.  
  
"Muaha! Muahahahahahah!" laughed the evil Orka Buttfucker.  
  
Epilogue.  
  
"Sorry about your hairbrush, Lavender," said Ron as they sat down to breakfast.  
  
"Oh, that's okay. I was due for a new one, anyway."  
  
"To think," said Hermione, picking up her juice, "he wasn't in league with Voldemort at all. He was just some crazy man bent on making every living soul have an itchy ass."  
  
Pansy Parkinson lifted her robes slightly as she made her way over to Slytherin table.  
  
"This floor is filthy," she exclaimed.  
  
"By the by, where's Snape?" asked Ron, noticing the Potion Master's empty seat at the Head Table.  
  
"Haven't you heard?" asked Hermione. "He's still in the Hospital Wing. Something to do with Filch's broom. That's why the floors are so dirty. Filch hasn't had a chance to sweep the floors."  
  
Ron looked horrified. "Geez, you'd think that being a Potions Master, he'd have a potion to remedy an itchy arse. Why didn't Snape perform the counterspell? Surely he knew it."  
  
Hermione smiled and sipped her juice. "I guess instinct took over. Snape's appearently more human than we give him credit for."  
  
Harry smirked. "Sirius'll have a field day when he hears about this."  
  
~FIN~  
  
A/N: Sorry about torturing Snape so, but I couldn't help myself. Sometimes he deserves it. Hee hee! 


End file.
